De Facto
by ListenNatalie
Summary: RiddickJack. People change, though sometimes, it's not really for the worse...language, adult situations.
1. A History

**Disclaimer: I don't own Jack or Riddick, nor do I own _Pitch Black_.  
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**A/N: My first JR fic...not Kyra. My pairings in PB/TCoR seem to be endless now...**

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I'd seen a lot of fucked up things in my life.

I mean, _real_ fucked up. Not the kinds of things that anyone could just scoff at, say "That's fucked up" and walk away nonchalantly like you didn't care what happened.

I meant the major leagues: death, blood, theft, rape. Some said it was too much for a kid like me…hell, even my foster mother had been a little surprised at some of the things I told her, and Deborah never even batted an eyelash when the other foster kids yelled obscenities and pulled their hair at her. I liked Deborah. She was one of the _good _ones.

But the most fucked up was not even violent or gory or sad or angry.

It was Riddick.

I had a choice when Imam had left me at the children's home. He said I could either come with him and live and breathe Chrislam or find a new family. I saw the glistening tears in his eyes as my twelve year old voice demanded to stay in the children's home. I'd never been religious so I saw no point in trying to start. So he left me. Sure, he wrote me letters and sent me things and I appreciated it, but he had to move on. I had. I never saw a psychiatrist because I didn't believe in them – let _me_ deal with my memories and past the way _I_ want to. It wasn't like I was having nightmares every night anyways.

Some said Riddick had been caught in the Helion system and sent back to Butcher Bay but I knew he didn't. Even seeing his picture on the vid screen during study hall when I should've been doing definite integrals assured me that those silver eyes weren't going back to Butcher Bay. He'd told me so on the skiff, the makeshift Hunter-Gratzner. It was one of the only things in my life that I knew for sure, even if definite integrals were indeed _definite_.

I didn't even escape religion in this new life. Catholic schools were strict and the outfits…well, they were bearable. I had my growth spurt, got taller, grew my hair out and basically regained my female identity. It was nice being a woman, when someone wasn't there to sniff you and rat you out to everyone else. I'm sure Riddick was chuckling about it now. I graduated, went to college, graduated in two years and was now working in the justice office of the Helion system, mostly filing papers and taking notes during trials. The government had switched their use of computers to make sentences by reinstating the idea of democracy: jury of your peers, speedy trial, et cetera. I got a good stipend and it was enough to afford my own apartment and a public bus ticket, the latter not being so glamorous but it proved I wasn't poor anymore. The government paid for my suits for work and all my supplies, for that I was grateful. Squeezing money out of the fat pockets of the government had been my _dream_, given my childhood of nothing.

I remember it was a Tuesday, a basic court day, where the sun was shining for those of us who could enjoy the free air. I had to fill in for Marcus, who had apparently turned green with some sort of virus that, indeed, turned your skin green. I rode with the prosecuting attorney, my boss, in a small cab until we reached the pristine white court building. Up a few flights of stairs and we were sitting in our seats, discussing.

"You seen the convict?" she shoved the white plastic folder toward me and I ran my fingers across it. Her smile was distinct, "He's a looker."

I opened the folder and closed it immediately. _No_.

_No. No. No. No_.

"Jackie, is there something wrong? You need some water?" her blue eyes trailed to the folder in my hand and I pushed it back. I didn't want to look anymore. Eight years and I hadn't seen that mug shot. She opened the folder again, looked at the man, and then looked back at me.

"You gonna be okay?" she blinked and I swallowed the lump that had appeared in my throat. He'd recognize me. Sitting, chained up and cocky as hell, he'd notice me.

"W-What happens if I kn-know the man in that folder?" My hands were as cold as ice.

She laughed, throwing her head back momentarily, cheeks flushing, and then looking back at me. "You know Richard Riddick?"

"Scarcely…"

She cut in, "You've spent time with him?"

"In a sense, yes…"

She leaned in. "What'd you two do to get yourselves together?"

"I wasn't a criminal if that's what you're inferring. And nothing happened. He saved my life a long time ago and I guess he knows it." Yeah, he did. Riddick struck me as the kind of person who _never_ forgot his debts. She sighed and closed the folder, crossing her arms across her waist.

"As long as you didn't sleep together…"

"I was TWELVE," I replied sternly. I _knew_ it was going to end up like this. A male and a female couldn't possibly be together two seconds without wanted to have sex, right? But I was twelve and he was thirty. That was bordering on sick.

She sighed. "The court cannot bar you from continuing with me on this trial. It's a personal decision. Do you want to see Richard or not?" Richard…it was such an old man's name. With a name like Richard Riddick, anyone would expect a grey-haired man chomping on a cigar and wearing a sweater vest.

Sweater vests and Riddick seemed like a huge oxymoron to me.

"I'll stay." The compassionate side of me wanted Riddick to see me and feel at ease in this big courtroom. A familiar face, maybe.

A nervous Riddick was also an oxymoron.

Riddick was just one big fat walking and talking irony.

Just then, the doors opened and the sounds of chains dragging the floor filled the courtroom. I turned around painfully. He was being shuffled along, hands and ankles bound, straight to his upright seat beside his lawyer. He sat down heavily, letting his chains slam down and slouched, bringing his fingers up to his lips and rubbing the back and forth. His head tilted to the right slightly and I turned my head away. I knew what he was doing. Surveying the crowd, look for minor inaccuracies so he could pounce on them if the need came.

I wasn't ready for him to see me. It would be chaos.

"He looks nicer in person." _Then you're a fool for thinking that_. I looked at the attorney sitting beside me and took a deep breath. THIS was how Riddick reeled them in. He did it to me too, but I was twelve and a child. Eight years had taught me a few things about trust.

"He's not nice he's just..." I looked at him quickly, "Riddick."

She shrugged and looked at him again. The judge emerged from his chambers and we all stood, watching the old man with snowy hair stumble to his seat and wave his hand, motioning us to sit down. We obeyed and the trial began.

"Richard B. Riddick. Two counts of vehicular homicide and one count assault with a deadly weapon." Riddick cocked his to the side and covered his mouth at the bailiff's words. Probably hiding that smile that had crept on his lips. The judge pondered at these charges and then looked up at Riddick.

"Mr. Riddick, you are unbelievable." Disgust laced the edges of his words and Riddick only smiled broader. He loved pissing people off; it was his cocaine.

"You think he's guilty?" she whispered to me and I almost laughed out loud.

"No, I _know_ he's guilty."

She said nothing else, turning her head toward Riddick's lawyer who was making his opening statements. He pulled the sympathy card: found in a liquor store trash bin with his umbilical cord around his neck, the last known Furyan, blah blah blah…even _I_ knew Riddick was rolling his eyes. But juries liked sob stories – they wanted to believe he knew he was wrong and felt bad about what he did.

Riddick probably only felt bad about getting caught.

My attorney began and lashed out with our only attack: multiple murders over his whole lifetime equaled no conscience and probable intent. At this point, I wanted him to see me. See how I'd changed and wasn't his tag-along anymore.

God, I sounded like a self-righteous bitch.

Damn, and it was good!


	2. In The Jailhouse

**Disclaimer: same as first chap.**

** A/N: Life's catching up to me. Started on the lacrosse team so working mybutt off there. Sorry I'm not gonna make it longer...I like keeping the ends open to let your mind wander. **

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"They're calling you up."

"What?"

"Subpoenaed you as a witness. Riddick says he knows you."

I took in a breath that singed my lungs as my heart did gymnastics behind my ribs. Maybe he recognizing me wasn't the most intelligent choice I could've made or hoped for; _Damn my pride!_ I closed my eyes and set down my head on my forearm. This was worse than death.

"You wanna tell me why they would be calling you up? _What did you do with him_?" Her knuckles were white against the chair and I lifted up my head.

"We. Did. _Not_. Have. Sex." I was feeling a little ill, sluggish, like blood was draining from the essential organs and just pooling in the pit on my stomach.

"I'm not saying sex, Jackie, I mean something illegal." She swallowed and sat down, leaning closer. "Did you _kill _someone?"

"No!" I scooted myself away from the table and stood at her accusation. I didn't kill anyone...

"Then what happened? They're going to ruin you if you don't come clean."

"I didn't kill ANYONE!" Blood was searing through my veins and I knew I was flushed. But I was mad. I paused and inhaled. "He killed someone. I-I can't explain it but I saw him do it. It was dark and it was scary but I saw him do it! _Crazy_ people kill other people. He deserves to be back with the rest of the crazy people like him!"

"But is he going to scare you? Sitting up there on that witness stand is scary..."

"I'm _not_ twelve years old anymore," I groaned, "I'm a woman and I know who Riddick is. Nothing about him scares me."

"Except for the fact that he murders people?"

I sat down. "I saw Riddick at his worst. If anything, he'd be scared of _me_."

"You promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

I turned my head toward the sitting sack of black and smug across the courtroom and then looked back at the bailiff. I nodded and sat in the large chair, situated right beside the judge. I crossed my legs and took a swelling breath.

"Miss Badd, how old are you?"

"Twenty."

"How old were you when you met Mr. Riddick?"

"Twelve."

"Where did you first meet Mr. Riddick?"

"We were both passengers on a transport ship named the Hunter-Gratzner."

"What was the nature of the trip?"

"We were supposed to land in New Mecca but we got hit by something. A rogue comet, meteor shower, we didn't know. We landed somewhere on the planet T2, part of the TriSolar system on the edge of the galaxy."

"How did you and Mr. Riddick escape from this planet?"

I sighed. "We were able to re-power an abandoned skiff with the power cells from our original ship and fly to the Sol-Track shipping lanes, where we were rescued by a cargo ship."

"How many people died on your stay on this planet?"

"Objection: relevance?"

Riddick's attorney cut in before the judge could say anything, "I will make it relevant, your Honor." The judge nodded and the attorney swiveled back to me.

"Answer the question, Miss Badd."

"Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, I don't really know because a lot of people died when we crash-landed. But out of the eleven survivors, only three of us made it off the planet."

"How did those other eight perish?"

"There were...creatures who lived and hunted in the dark and they attacked and killed them."

"So, Mr. Riddick did not injure any of them? Kill any of them?"

I looked at him. His brow creased slightly and I knew we were thinking the same thing. Johns. What could I say about Johns?

I didn't like him.

I sure as hell wasn't sad he was dead.

I didn't like him.

I took in a deep breath. If I said he did, the jury would have no qualms about putting him back behind bars. But if I said no? This was a dilemma. Riddick deserved to be in jail for all the innocent people he had sliced, but what's to say they didn't deserve it? Johns was a liar, a hype, a man who gave no thought to his job and the people he was around. He had yelled at Carolyn, broken her down, and made us believe we were disposable to her. But she knew we weren't and that's what ate away at my verdict. She protected me when I had no one while Riddick had disposed of the one person who would have killed us all on that planet.

I closed my eyes. "No."

"'No, he didn't injure them' or 'No, he didn't kill them'?"

"He did neither."

"Niether."

"_Yes_." I said annoyed and looked at my hands.

"No further questions."

"Stay ten feet away from the prisoner at all times."

I nodded and quietly passed through the glass doors and they shut. He sat in the back of the cell, head lowered, and hands clasped together. I approached slowly and breathed heavily. He raised his eyes from my feet, then up toward my face but sat still. When I was at least ten feet away, I shifted my weight onto my right hip and crossed my arms across my chest.

"You're a funny girl, Jackie," he mumbled, sitting up and crossing his ankles as he reclined.

"Funny?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"Well, I just came to say that I didn't say anything about Johns because we all wanted him dead as much as you did. If you hadn't done the job, someone would have done it."

"Someone like you?"

I cleared my throat. "If I had to, I would. I'm not stupid."

"I knew you weren't." He stood and paced around his cell. "What happened to you?"

I sighed, "I got a second chance."

"With the wrong side of the law." He paused, his feet mid-gait, and I flared my nostrils.

"Just because it doesn't fit around _your_ schedule doesn't mean it's wrong. And besides, at least I'm not stuck behind bars every second of my life."

He laughed again and continued walking around his small space, goggles still staring at me. I didn't shiver nor did I pause in my speaking. I knew Riddick's tricks. I'd just tell him to eat shit and die. He came to the bars and stuck a meaty arm out, veins popping out as he motioned me closer. I only shook my head.

The first mistake: listening to Riddick. He lived off his ability to coerce people into things, whether it is through his wit or his dick. This time it was his dick.

He tilted his head slightly, not understanding why I wasn't obeying.

"I'm not a child anymore, Riddick."

His eyes grazed up and down my figure, his tongue coming out to flick his lower lip then retreat back inside his mouth. He looked up, smiling, "I see that."

"And you seem to be getting not much older."

"Cryo-sleep does miracles, baby."

"_Don't_."

He stepped close to the bars. "Don't what?"

"Do what you do, Riddick. I know you. And I won't let you do this to me."

"What about Johns?"

"What about him?"

He grinned. "You lied."

"Someone had to die and at least three of us survived. No telling what Johns would have done to us," I whispered, crossing my arms across my chest.

"You saying that if I hadn't gotten rid of him someone would have one the job for me?"

"Yes," I answered, "and to answer your next question: I would."

He shook his head, laughing to himself, "You were a kid, Jackie."

"And I've seen some really fucked up things in my life. So don't judge me about it."

"I wasn't," he slowly extended his hand and ever so gently traced a trail up my arm. God, it felt good to be touched. And not in a pitiful kind of way. But this is was so very wrong. I pulled away slightly but he only continued, whispering, "I know you'd do anything for me Jackie..."

"Not anything..."

Through the cold metal bars, his lips found mine and I wanted so bad to slap him and pull away. So bad. A tongue found its way into my mouth and I almost dropped to my knees from the pull. The hand on my arm snaked its way across my breasts and up to my neck, gripping it firmly. Another hand prodded through the metal, finding the spot between my legs and dipping and twisting. My knee slammed against the bars and I gasped at the pain and pleasure and lights and sounds all at the same time. I was a stupid girl, _stupid girl!_ I wanted to tell him to choke on shit and die, but I couldn't. Climax coming, _no not now_, _stop_...

"Time's up!" I pulled away fast at the words. Riddick just held the smile planted on his face and I let my heartbeat even out.

"Jack de Facto," he murmured, grinning and then disappearing into the shadow of the cell.

_**de fac·to**  
In reality or fact; actually._


End file.
